Page 15

“Incidentally, which barony are you due to inherit? In theory, of course.”

“Starkley. The Barony of Starkley,” he replied.

Richard blinked and then a slow smirk spread across his face again. The one that meant he knew something and wasn’t going to share.

“Something of note there?”

“Not yet,” he replied with a smile. “Give your mother my regards, will you?”

Leo nodded and walked away wondering if he was imagining the low chuckle that he heard behind him.

Although he could have managed well enough on his own, Leo had to admit it was much nicer to ride in Richard’s state-of-the-art carriage.

Even if it gave him much too much time to dwell on Regina Mason and what she’d looked like in that dress at the opera.

The truth was as unconventional as she was, she was also everything a woman should be in his estimation; brave and sensible, ambitious but caring, loyal and cunning.

He hadn’t even touched on the rest of her, those wide, heavily lashed dark eyes, that lush but firm figure, all abundant curves wrapped in the smoothest dark brown skin.

Her black curls were no doubt softer than they looked even when piled in an elaborate coiffure with a halo of candlelight.

That crisp practical nature wrapped in such a feast for the senses made his head spin.

It was the only explanation he had for why he’d asked so many personal questions of a young woman whom he barely knew.

She had been right to reproach him, but he hadn’t been prepared for how cold those dark eyes could go.

He’d been too curious, digging too much for information that he wasn’t entitled to.

He wanted to pick at the mystery of Regina Mason until he knew everything.

So much of her was trapped within the role she’d accepted for herself.

A role that fit her even if it left her squeezed into an unnatural shape.

He knew that if she had the chance, she would be just as sensual and giving as her plush mouth, as eager as her curious mind, as sweet as her smile.

The idea of all that staying trapped in a life of survival was torturous to him, but it wasn’t his place to stand with her.

Even if he had taken the silver spoon fate had handed him.

She was promised to someone else. No not promised, precontracted with no way out unless she betrayed her family.

Either way it wasn’t his problem. She likely didn’t see him as anything but a fascinating if impertinent character, especially considering their encounter at the park. Could he dare imagine she saw him as a gentleman? Did it matter?

The carriage came to a stop and the driver thumped on the roof. He was home. Better to stay here with the life he understood, he thought as he stepped down from the carriage and walked up the stairs to his front door.

The house was dark when he entered, save for a candle at the top of the staircase. His mother hadn’t stayed awake to greet him, but she had left that faint light to guide him. It was better than nothing.

He hung up his coat and removed his shoes before walking up the stairs as carefully as he could. If she was asleep, he didn’t want to wake her.

“How is my baby?” Her voice came as he neared the top of the stairs. He fought back a smile as he reached the corridor and glanced up to see his mother standing in the shadows, a thick shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

That question was growing more and more frequent in their house, but at least this time he was certain of his answer. “He is as he always was. He sends his regards.”

“Mmm… he worries me.”

He nodded. “He took your side of things, if you are interested.”

“Was there another side to take?” she asked before turning to return to her bedroom.

So, she was going to play it that way. He stepped forward and snatched hold of her wrist, pulling her into a tight embrace that she didn’t return.

“Mother.”

She smacked his back. “Let go of me.”

His hold tightened and she let out a sigh.

Nothing would do but complete capitulation.

Thankfully he had a good amount of experience in the area.

“I’m sorry. It was selfish and thoughtless not to tell you the minute I knew the truth.

I did not mean to make you worry and I am so very sorry you found out about something so important the way you did. It won’t happen again.”

A humming silence replaced his voice for a moment, and he wondered if he had truly made her angry enough to hold a grudge.

“Fine,” she finally said.

Success. “I hope you can forgive my momentary lapse in consideration for you and your feelings.”

“I’ll consider it,” she grumbled, but he knew he’d been forgiven.

He rubbed her back and rocked her from side to side. She was prickly but there was nothing like her love for him, even when it put them at odds.

“What are you going to do about that title?”

“Nothing. I don’t want it.” He drew back from rubbing her shoulders.

“You really mean to give it up?”

“It was never mine. I don’t need it, and while I have a feeling you and your baby boy are of a mind on that topic as well, I’d rather not discuss it.”

Her lips pursed together, and she shook her head before letting out a breath. Annoyance shone in her eyes. “I am too tired to argue with you tonight.”

He doubted it but he appreciated the effort. “Thank you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“But this isn’t over.”

He closed his eyes. A reprieve, but a needed one. “Take the candle,” he said.

“I left it for you.”

“And I’m here now. Take it with you.”

With a dull headache brewing behind his eyes the last thing he needed was more light.

*

While it was certainly true that Regina wasn’t exactly looking forward to her wedding, there were certain benefits to having nightmarish in-laws.

Like the new pistol she and her father were on their way to purchase.

She had been waiting for two days before her father announced at breakfast that today was the day.

She sat across from him in their carriage, in her favorite blue silk calling dress, fingers tapping restlessly against her wrist. Captain Mason was watching her in amusement.

“What?” she asked.

“You are unusually animated today.”

“I’m excited about my new pistol.”

“The pistol or the prospect of using it on your mother-in-law?”

She opened her mouth to contradict it, but he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

“Are you going to deny it?”

“Both can be true,” she said.

“What a blood thirsty little wench you are,” he said with a chuckle, as the carriage came to a stop. “I believe we are here.”

The door opened and her father jumped down before offering her his hand.

“You are certain aai approved of this?” she asked, taking his hand and disembarking onto the sidewalk.

“Yes, rani. Even she can see the necessity of this.”

“Small mercies. Maybe we can practice fencing more after this.”

“That is a fine point, darling. Let’s walk before we run.”

She wrinkled her nose at him then looked up at the wood and glass door in front of her. She didn’t register the crowds of people milling to and fro. All she saw was the sign above the door.

Wilson and Sons, purveyors of fine handcrafted firearms.

Wonderful . She could almost smell the gun oil. She’d never been inside such a place. Her father had taught her to shoot, but he’d previously drawn a line at allowing his young daughter to accompany him to purchase those firearms, no matter how much she had wheedled him.

With an excited little giggle, she took the arm her father offered her before following him into the shop.

It was a strange smell—gun powder, linseed oil and polish.

The inside of the shop was busy but not oppressively crowded.

A curved staircase led to the upper floor, but Regina didn’t notice many clients going up the stairs.

Her father led her to the wall under the staircase. “Stay here for a moment, choti rani. I’ll be right back.”

“You won’t be long, will you?” she asked.

“I won’t. I promise. I need five or ten minutes and I’ll be back.

Just stay here.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and hurried away up the stairs.

She didn’t relish the prospect of going up those stairs in her full skirts any more than she enjoyed being left in a room full of men.

True her father was close at hand, and very few had noticed her at all.

The ones who had also noted her father and gave him nods of acknowledgement.

Perhaps they knew him or at least knew his reputation.

He wouldn’t have left her there if he didn’t believe it was safe.

Her eyes wandered over the wooden paneled walls, catching glimpses of the glass case where some of the ready-to-purchase pistols were displayed. Older pistols were in display frames on the dark green walls.

“Mr. Kingston, your pistol.” A clerk said and a chill went straight through Regina.

Kingston?

Was he here? She watched the clerk walk past her with a box until he stopped in front of none other than Leo Kingston.

As always he was neat, his clothing well-chosen and well put together, if not quite fashionable.

He wore his customary brown broadcloth coat, she could see a flash of the cravat around his neck.

It was the same coat he wore when he’d met her at the park.

Suddenly she couldn’t help but think of how she had attacked him the last time they had spoken.

She hadn’t anticipated seeing him again so soon and the idea of it was both thrilling and terrifying.

Mr. Kingston nodded towards the counter and the young man placed the gun down on the glass surface. He pulled it towards him with those long-fingered hands and opened the case with a deft flick of his wrist.

She watched in awe filled fascination as he inspected the weapon carefully, a frown of concentration creasing his brow. Every single inch of him spoke of mastery over his body, of confidence and efficiency.

“Bullets?”